Alphabet
by Erina-chan
Summary: 26 little Pokéshippy one-shots. An Alphabet Challenge to be my swansong.
1. Always

**[ALWAYS]**

"I want for things… to always be like this."

Ash glanced over. Misty had abandoned painting her toenails, leaving one foot half-done and was staring vacantly into the campfire.

"You what?"

"Like this." Misty shifted her weight and turned to face him, resting her cheek on her shoulder. "Us. Travelling. Having adventures. Eating by a campfire, sleeping under the stars. Like this," she repeated. Ash smiled and stretched his arms behind his back.

"Yeah, this is the life! But you'd better make the most of it." He gestured out at the valley behind them. The nightlights of Blackthorn winked and wavered in the distance. "My _last_ badge!" Misty made a non-committal sound in response and returned her gaze to the fire. Undeterred, Ash continued. "Yeah! You'd better get your cheerleading outfit out and prepare to bow at the feet of a Master!" Misty rewarded his cheek by sticking her tongue out and lay back against the grass, her shins and knees illuminated orange by the campfire, her torso and face in shadow.

Ash's upside down face loomed into her vision.

"What's up with you?" he asked, settling down at her head. "What's with the mood?"

"I'm not in a mood," Misty retorted, tiredly, closing her eyes to him. "I didn't mean to cause an argument. I was just saying." Talk ceased for a few minutes and she focused instead on the soft tearing noise as Ash ripped up clumps of grass and made a pile by her ear.

"I know what you mean, I guess," Ash finally said. "Plus, it's a bit scary not to know what we'll be doing in three months time."

"Oh, I know what you'll be doing," Misty smirked. "You'll be licking your wounds after being knocked out of the League in the first rou- hey!" She yelped and sat upright, brushing blades of grass from her face. Ash crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out petulantly. "Alright, I'm kidding, of course I'm kidding…"

Misty sighed and settled down cross-legged at Ash's side. After a second he unfolded his arms and leant back on them leisurely. Behind them lay the warmth of the fire, the stack of dishes left over from dinner, a haphazard pile of belongings and the clearing where the rest of their companions lay sleeping. Ahead the lights of Blackthorn flickered like a mirage.

"Well," Misty smiled, "at least you know I'm not going anywhere… I can hardly make it home without a bike!" Ash groaned and tilted his head back.

"Yes, I know, I know, I'm stuck with you for life," he grumbled good-naturedly. Misty's smile broadened.

"Well, I'm sure you could use some trainer winnings from the upcoming League battles to pay for a bike…" she pressed, teasingly. Ash smiled, keeping his focus on the skies.

"But then I would be lonely. And there would be no more nights like this."

"That's true," Misty said simply. "And I really like these nights on the road." She tilted her head up to match his and the two fell into a companionable silence, gazing up at the dashing of stars spreading over the sky as the night grew late.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	2. Birthday

**[BIRTHDAY]**

It was getting on to 7pm when she crested the hill, and the sky was turning the river to pinks and oranges. Misty dropped her bag at her feet and reached her arms above her head, stretching out the tensions of a long, long day. She had been worried that she wouldn't make it in time but - she reasoned - _he_ was always late for everything, so five minutes on her account wouldn't really matter.

The bank below was muddy and indistinct in the thickening light and it was hard for her to pin-point the exact place they had been when they met. Ash always argued it was further downstream, but she insisted it had been nearer the river basin itself. They were never going to agree.

Last year they had sat right there, on the rise of the road back towards Pallet, overlooking the river that had started their journey together. Ash had crushed dandelion heads in his hands and blown the seeds like a kiss into the sky.

We should come back here every year for my birthday, he had said, enthusiastically.

At 7.08 the phone rang.

"Happy Birthday, Ash."

"Hey Misty! Are you there? How's the view?"

"Same old. Are you having a good day?"

Misty settled down to listen to Ash's cheerful onslaught of information. Behind his voice she could hear familiar noises, the sounds of camp being set up, laughter and teasing, the soundtrack to her childhood.

"Misty," Ash's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts, suddenly concerned. "Misty, are you okay?"

"Of course," she answered, immediately. "Why wouldn't I be?" He didn't rise to the bait. Instead he sighed, a soft sound, and again she pictured the dandelion seeds dancing upwards from his lips.

"Oh Misty," he said, sadly. "I wish I was there."

Misty blinked back the sudden hotness in her eyes.

"Yeah, me too," was all she could manage in reply.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	3. Confusion

**[CONFUSION]**

Okay, it wasn't the _worst_ of attacks to get in the way of: no blood, no broken bones, no otherwise irrevocable damage. They'd been confidently assured that the after-effects would wear off in an hour or so…

Four hours later, the only thing wearing was Misty's patience.

"But… but why?" moaned Ash, his eyes cloudy with tearful frustration. "I don't understand!"

"It just IS!" Misty snapped, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, fumbling in her bag for small change.

"But why?"

"It doesn't MATTER!" Misty swore under her breath as she dropped a coin and it rolled under the vending machine.

"Yes it does! It must be blue for a reason!" Ash cried, staring at the couch with increasing anxiety.

"Ash, just sit DOWN," Misty turned and pressed down hard on the boy's shoulders until he gave up resisting and sank down onto the couch with a whine.

"I'm so _confused_," he whimpered, staring wide-eyed at his own hands.

Misty rolled her eyes and refrained from commenting on the obvious.

"Here." She handed him a cardboard cup filled with luke-warm tea from the vending machine. Ash stared at the cup in consternation and his bottom lip trembled with distress. Misty growled with impatience and dropped down on the couch next to him, sipping at the tea herself before leaning back against the padding.

Ash regarded her profile for a minute.

"Misty," he tried. "Misty," he repeated when he was met with stubborn silence. "Misty, I don't understand." His fingers plucked nervously at her hand. She took them between her own and closed her eyes with a smile.

"I know Ash, I know."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	4. Digression

**[DIGRESSION]**

Dawn looked up at Ash with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes Ash, you've already told me about that," she said pointedly, effectively killing his anecdote.

"Yes, at least twice before," Brock piped up, earning himself a scowl.

"Have I..?"

"Yup. She was in the show…" Dawn recited.

"She was really good…" added Brock.

"You hadn't realised her hair was so long," they both chorused, not bothering to hide their grins. Ash's face flushed.

"Oh… right. Sorry." Suddenly he became very busied with his backpack. "What were we talking about again?"

"What you wanted for dinner…" Brock answered with a smirk.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	5. Excuses

**[EXCUSES]**

"It's never even been about the bike, has it."

It wasn't a question.

Ash had waited until Brock had gone to bed before bursting out with it. The bike in question was leant against the wall, and he punctuated his statement with a hand flung impatiently in its direction.

I turn to him in scorn but my retort dies in my throat at the expression on his face. The hand he's just gestured with pulls back and balls into a fist at his waist; his eyes are dark with the challenge.

I meet his eyes coolly with my own as well-practiced comebacks jostle for place at the tip of my tongue.

But, the thing is, the only thing getting me through tonight is the knowledge that he could never know just how hard tomorrow will be; how my stomach turns to ice at the thought of walking away; how much I secretly wish that this last night would last forever. The bike excuse has been my life-raft for years; there's no way I can pitch myself into the waters tonight, of all nights.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

In two quick strides he's closed the distance between us. Suddenly his hand is on the back of my head, his fingers in my hair, his cheek crushed against mine so I can't be sure which of our faces is the one that is wet. His frame is hard with barely controlled tension.

"I just want to hear you say it," he murmurs into my hair. "Just once."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	6. Fortune

**[FORTUNE]**

Misty's hearty appetite had always been a point of contention for her and a point of amusement for Ash. As it was, she had valiantly matched him course for course, serving for serving, right up until dessert, where the thought of deep-fried fruit was finally enough to make her queasy. Seeing her expression Ash hesitated, before closing the menu and asking instead for the bill.

"It's gonna be massive," he whined, slouching in his chair. "Why do you have to eat so much?" he teased, pointing at her accusingly with a chopstick. Misty batted it away with one of her own.

"Me?" she asked, incredulously. "You had practically that entire duck to yourself!"

"Did not!" He jabbed his chopstick at her.

"Did too!" she lightly tapped him on the bridge of his nose with hers.

"Did—" Ash was interrupted by the arrival of the bill, placed inconspicuously on a plate piled high with gold-wrapped fortune cookies. Ash whipped the bill out from under them, skimmed it quickly before handing the waitress a wad of dirty notes. His lower lip stuck out petulantly but thankfully he didn't comment on the amount. Misty raised her hands high to hide her smile as she cracked open a fortune cookie.

_There is no limit to love's forbearance - to its trust, its hope, and its power to endure._

Misty read it through three times, then sighed and lowered her hands to the table, the small slip of paper folding between them. Ash made an impressed sound through a mouthful of cookie.

_Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life._

He waved his fortune at her with a smug expression. Misty rolled her eyes.

"Come off it Ash, these things don't actually mean _anything_…"

"Oh yeah, well what does yours say then?"

Misty deftly avoided the question by reaching for another cookie.

_Only love lets us see normal things in an extraordinary way._

Misty grunted in annoyance and a curious Ash pulled the little piece of paper from her fingers. He read it slowly, before his eyes flicked up to look at his companion. The bridge of her nose was flushed pink and her long fingers were occupied with nervously shredding the golden foil the cookies had come wrapped in. Ash pressed his lips together to suppress an affectionate smile.

He let the paper flutter down to the tablecloth and reached leisurely for the fourth cookie.

_One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes _he recited aloud, this time unable to conceal his amusement. Misty's blush darkened but she maintained an aloof expression, staring into the middle distance.

"Ash, these things are just for kids…" she murmured, her agitated fingers plucking and shredding. Ash regarded her in silence for a moment before reaching for the final fortune, extracting it from the cookie and reading it solemnly. Misty waited for him to announce it but instead he folded the small slip in two before slipping it into his wallet and slipping that in turn into his jeans pocket.

He grinned cheerfully at her as he rose from the table.

"C'mon Misty," he said simply, standing at the side of the table and extending a hand to her. "Let's go walk all this food off." Hesitantly Misty slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her up from her chair. Bidding farewell to the waiting staff, they exited the restaurant, still hand-in-hand, and headed off into the darkened city streets.

Ash always kept that little fortune tucked in his wallet after that night.

_Decide what you want and go for it._

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	7. Gallant

**[GALLANT]**

Misty waited impatiently.

Ash picked at his nails.

Misty cleared her throat meaningfully.

Ash scuffed the toe of his trainer along a crack in the paving slabs.

"Ash…" She barely kept her temper in check.

"Misty..?" He looked up at her with a bored expression.

"The _door_…?" she gestured.

"What _about_ it..?" he mocked her intonation.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" she finally asked in exasperation.

"Aren't you?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I can't open it!"

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely bewildered

"Because! That's what you're for."

"Since _when_!"

"Since you became my boyfriend!"

"Huh? What does that have to do with your ability to _turn a handle_!"

"It's about_ chivalry_. Treating me like a lady, you idiot."

"Oh, nice Misty! Maybe you should try _acting_ like one first?"

"Oh please, you just wouldn't know good manners if they slapped you in the face!"

"Would too!"

"Would not!"

"Would too!"

Misty cuffed him round the head.

"Oh yes! Real mature!" Ash scowled and rubbed his ear. Misty sighed.

"Look Ash, just open the door."

"No!"

"Open the door!"

"No!"

"Well I'm not opening it!"

"Well neither am I!"

"Well then I guess we're going to be waiting here a while then!"

"I guess so!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

After an hour fatigue triumphed over Misty's stubbornness and she sat down on the pavement, scowling furiously. Two hours later and she was asleep, her head back against the brick of the building, mouth open and snoring lightly. Ash looked across at her from where he was hunched over on the curb. He stretched out a finger and pushed her chin up, closing her mouth. After another moment's quiet regard he shifted across the pavement to put his back against the wall and slotted his sleeping girlfriend into place beside him, rubbing his hand against the chilled skin of her forearm.

He would be damned if he was going to be the one to open that door… but there was no need for her to be cold while they waited…

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	8. Hair

**[HAIR]**

"Don't you… like it?" Misty self-consciously twirled one strand around her index finger.

Ash blinked.

"Errr…" he desperately filled the silence as he thought of something appropriate to say.

"Ash?"

What could he say? He could hardly admit that he had almost rushed straight past her thinking that she was her sister.

"Errr…"

"Ash!" Again. A little annoyed now.

"It's great," he finally managed, shooting her a weak smile. "You look great," he repeated. Misty's face relaxed and she beamed back at him.

"Thanks! I wasn't sure… I mean, it's such a big change…"

"Yeah…" Ash trailed off as he stared at her hair again. His stomach squirmed. "You don't look like yourself…" Misty picked up a trace of despondency in his voice as he tentatively moved towards her across the Gym entrance hall. "I haven't seen you for months…" he continued, raising his hand slightly as if he would touch the hair in question but leaving it paused in the space between them.

Misty took a deep breath.

"Do you prefer it?" she asked, boldly, her tone defensive.

Ash swallowed nervously.

"Do you?" she urged. Ash sighed.

"No," he said simply, wincing at the crudity of his reply. "No I don't. You were… you were…" The fingers of his elevated hand twitched. "You were great the way that you were."

Misty broke the heavy silence with a small noise in her throat and Ash mentally berated himself for his rough honesty. Before he could open his mouth to try and limit the damage, Misty had pushed into the space between them, knocking his arm aside and pressed her lips to his.

All of a sudden, her hair colour didn't really matter to Ash anymore. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her back, again and again.

The blonde wig slipped down and fell unnoticed to the floor.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	9. Indoors

**[INDOORS]**

Lily stood like a sentry at the gates, her arms folded across her chest. Ash scowled at her as he was forced to a stop outside them.

"Where is she?" he asked, without preamble.

"She's indoors," Lily indicated with a delicate inclination of her head. "But she doesn't want to see you."

"Well too bad," Ash growled, reaching a hand through the blue-painted bars to give them a fierce shake. Lily didn't flinch. "Misty!" he shouted, shaking the bars again. "Misty, get DOWN here!"

"I _told_ you, she _doesn't_ want to speak to you…" Lily said quietly, but Ash ignored her.

"Misty! MISTY! You've got it ALL WRONG!" he continued to bellow.

"Ash, you're making a scene…" Lily sweatdropped, as she realised a small crowd was massing on the street.

"MI-STY! MI-STY!" Ash repeated relentlessly, rattling the bars with each syllable.

"Alright, alright! I'll let you in to wait in the kitchen… But she WON'T want to come down…"

Ash barely gave Lily a chance to slide the bolt back before pushing through the gates and charging straight through the Gym doors and up the stairs to the residential quarters.

"Mi—" His angry repetition of the name was interrupted by the arrival of the girl in question, charging down the stairs to meet him, face furious.

"You!" she shrieked. "What part of I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN do you NOT UNDERSTAND?" Her clenched fists were white and she shook as if only the slimmest shred of control was stopping her from shoving him back down the stairs. "Get out of here RIGHT NOW."

"NO!" Ash roared into her face. "You listen to ME. You are being RIDICULOUS. Why won't you just let me EXPLAIN?"

"Explain? EXPLAIN?" Misty's bottom lip trembled and all at once she buckled, sitting down heavily on the top step. She took a deep breath. "Go on then. Explain."

Ash hadn't expected such a quick acceptance; he stood in a surprised silence for a few moments. Misty studied the carpet.

"Misty…" he said, his voice low and quiet. "You don't understand…"

Suddenly she flared up again, shooting him a venomous look.

"I don't understand!"

"Yes… it's not what you think…" Ash pleaded, settling to his knees a few steps below her, bringing their faces more to a level.

"Oh, I think it's pretty CLEAR!" Misty whipped her mobile phone from her pocket. The catastrophically mis-sent text was already on the screen, indicating that she had recently been reading it over again.

_Cerulean this weekend... Oh god. Don't make me go! :(_

Ash exhaled shakily and raked his hands through his hair in frustration. Misty dropped the phone into her lap and dipped her head again.

"Misty…" She sniffed in response. "Oh god Misty, don't… you're killin' me… Stop!" Ash brought his palms down on the carpet either side of her hips, leaning in to press his forehead against the back of her bowed head. "It's out of context. It was part of an ongoing conversation… Brock and I had been talking earlier in the week… about how… about how… I was sort of, dreading this weekend…" Misty stiffened. "No, no, no!" Ash hurried to soften his clumsy phrasing. "Just hear me out. This is a good thing!"

"I can't imagine how this can be considered a good thing…" Misty said, her voice small.

"Hear me out," Ash repeated, earnestly. Misty fell silent, allowing Ash a few seconds to collect his thoughts. "I was dreading it…" he continued, 'because I wanted to… I needed to… I thought that we should… talk… No, I mean… I wanted to talk to you…"

Ash felt Misty stir and he moved back to allow her to raise her head up and look him straight in the eyes.

"Talk about what?" she asked, her tone indecipherable. He could feel the heat of her face on his. He swallowed apprehensively.

"I miss you," he admitted, finally. "I really miss you."

Misty regarded him with a strange expression.

"I know Ash."

"I was… scared…"

Misty's curious expression didn't flicker.

"You don't have to be," she murmured.

Ash looked down at her and decided that the time for euphemisms and ambiguity had passed. He pushed his nose against hers, savouring that last second before the threshold was crossed.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	10. Juice

**[JUICE]**

Misty polished off her carton of cranberry juice, the remnants slurping through the straw. Immediately, Ash sipped furiously at his own carton, determined to make a louder slurp. Misty didn't rise to the bait, but simply put the now concave box down on the picnic table and picked at the food on her plate.

"I don't know _how_ you can drink that stuff," Ash grumbled. "It's so bitter."

"Well, I like it," Misty answered, in a bored tone. Ash frowned, put-out by her uncharacteristically calm response.

"Well, I guess it's appropriate to your personality," he tried again. "Bitter and unpleasant!" His persistence was rewarded; Misty's eyebrow twitched irritably and she swung her body around to face him across the table.

"Well, what does that say about you?" she countered. "Orange juice? Really? Thick and simple then!"

Ash glared at her.

"No! Honest and… POPULAR!" he retorted, waving his empty carton in her face.

"Well then I'M exotic and… sophisticated!" Misty banged her palm down on the table.

"You wish!"

"You - !"

Misty's rejoinder was interrupted by the arrival of Brock at the table, carefully balancing his own tray of food.

"What have you got to drink, Brock?" Ash asked curiously, noticing the plastic glass of thick pinkish juice.

"Oh, it's half cranberry, half orange juice," Brock explained as he sat down. "The orange juice makes the cranberry not quite as tart… and the cranberry gives the orange something a little extra! It's delicious, want to tr…?"

Brock trailed off as he realised his two companions were glaring at him murderously.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	11. Kiss

**[KISS]**

_Finally overcome with lust, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She stiffened in shock, but after a moment seemed to melt against him, warm in his arms like the heat that was coursing through his body. He pulled back to look into her eyes, as if to check if this was what she really wanted._

A delicate blush had risen across Misty's nose, Ash noticed with interest. She looked at him now, her expression slightly curious, as if wondering what he was thinking.

_She pulled him down again, her mouth greedy, her fingers snaking up to his dark hair. This time when they pulled apart, they were both breathless and panting._

Ash noticed that Misty's blush had intensified and his stomach did a queer little flip as he looked at her. She bit her bottom lip and looked across at him through her eyelashes. His stomach flipped again.

"_I love you," he said, wiping the furrow of tears from under her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "I always have."_

"_I always will," she replied, her voice small but full of wonder. Her eyes flickered closed as he bent down to kiss her again._

"Hey guys, what are we watching?" The rectangle of light cast by Brock opening the door broke the spell. Ash and Misty glared at him over the back of the couch. Undeterred he moved into the room. "Ooh, _Stolen Moments_!" Brock seized the DVD cover from the coffee table as he plonked himself down on the couch between his two friends. "I meant to see this. Apparently it's quite racy! Is it any good?"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	12. Left

**[LEFT]**

See now - the thing is - after she first left, he was fine (fine, mind you, is not great. It's only _fine)_. Sure he missed her (of course he did), but she was always going to come back. I mean, how long could it possibly take for her sisters to travel round the world?

Which, in fact, was a question he brought up quite often, always with an affected air of disinterest or amusement. Eventually, Max (not particularly kindly) pointed out that he himself had been at it for almost five years, and still hadn't managed it yet. Ash had scowled darkly, and prod-prod-prodded the embers of the fire with a stick.

Then one day Misty had cut their vidphone conversation short, pleading that she had a lot of cleaning to do, as her sisters were due home in a few days. Ash felt a lurch of pleasure in his abdomen, couldn't help beaming at her. After hanging up and returning to his companions, he informed them all confidently that it wouldn't be too long before Misty arrived (in fact, hadn't they better travel near the coast so it would be easier for her to catch up with them?). That night he had hummed contentedly to himself as he readied for bed; Brock had hidden his smile and refrained from comment.

They were on the road for quite a while after that – it was over three weeks before he got to a phone. Misty was unchanged – indulgent of his news and full of her own. But no mention of leaving the Gym. And Ash, of course, was too proud to ask outright.

Gradually, the phone calls to Cerulean became stilted, less frequent. If Misty sensed that something was wrong, she didn't ask. Her eyes (maybe?) grew a little sadder each time they said goodbye. But still she didn't mention coming back, and still, Ash didn't ask. After ringing off he would have to wait for a while before returning to the others, allow himself time to let the feelings of resentment and confliction abate.

Eventually, Misty disappeared entirely from conversation, conspicuously missing from campfire anecdotes. The phone calls became entirely perfunctory. Sometimes Ash would realise with a shock that her hair was noticeably longer that it had been the last time they had talked. The immediate sharpness of guilt was numbed by the cheeriness of her voice as she chattered about life at the Gym.

A year passed, then two. He met up with her from time to time (of course he did) but it was never the same. He waved and smiled and did all the things expected of him. There had been a time when he would have thought nothing of an arm casually slung round her shoulders or of grabbing her hand in excitement. But now he never touched her. Inevitably, she'd leave, he'd wave her off ("keep up the good work being a GymLeader!"), and afterwards he'd be consumed with regret, quiet for days. Each time it became a little bit harder to pick up the phone and see her face, have her seem so close when he knew she was so distant.

The truth was (even if he could only admit it to himself) that he missed her like an ache. He carried around her absence like a block of ice lodged deep in his gut. He just couldn't work out what he could do about it.

It's late, but Ash can't sleep. He sits prod-prod-prodding the dying embers of the fire, rolling his Misty lure between his fingers.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	13. Moon

**[MOON]**

The night is a warm one, and the air hangs heavy on Misty like an extra blanket. She shifts listlessly, once, then again.

"Ash," she murmurs, reaching across to poke him with her foot. "Ash, are you awake?"

"Mmmm?" mumbles Ash, as he forces one eye open. "Whattisit? You okay?"

"I was just… remembering…" Misty whispers, "the sound of the ocean at night, when we travelled the Islands. It was everywhere. It was like a lullaby…"

Ash shifts his body to face her, concern touching his face.

"Can't you sleep?"

"Do you remember," Misty continues, ignoring his question, "the evening on Durian Island?" Ash remains neutral, silent. "I think, I think… I think that was the evening that I realised… how I felt about… a lot of things…" Ash can picture the blush that spreads across her face, even if it is too dark to see clearly.

He remembers the evening well. It had been humid but balmy, as the evenings in the Archipelago always were. Tracey, quiet and solid, cross-legged with a sketchpad; Misty, bright and long-limbed between them on the sand. Ash had lain on his front, face to the encroaching surf, lifting it away just in time each time the fingers of water surged forwards and raked the beach.

"There's a legend in these Islands," Tracey had begun, never raising his eyes from his drawing, "about the moon, and the sea. A love story…"

Misty shivered with delight and leant back on her arms to look at the moon, blue and indistinct in the dying blaze of sunset. Ash rolled his eyes but pushed himself up on his elbows as a sign that he was listening.

"In the story," Tracey continued, casually, "the moon is a girl, hopelessly in love with the earth. But she cannot control the strength of her love, and it scares her. She pushes the earth away." Tracey's keen eyes did not miss that Misty's gaze drifted. "But she cannot live without him, so she pulls him back to her again. And this cycle goes on forever and ever, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling. Causes the tides to ebb and rush…"

Tracey broke the thoughtful silence by blowing a swirl of multicoloured chalk dust off his page and closing the book decisively.

"That's a sad story," murmured Misty, raising her head to look at the moon again.

"That's a stupid story," grumbled Ash, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Tracey laughed softly as he leant forwards to dip his chalky fingers in the water.

"I think it's both," he commented quietly.

That night when Misty was asleep, Tracey had pressed something into Ash's hands. A large square of paper, folded in eights.

"You have this," was all he had said, before settling into his sleeping bag and turning over.

"What was it?" Misty asks, all trace of sleep gone from her voice in her curiosity. Ash rolls back onto his back, closes his eyes, smiles.

"It was a drawing of you," he answers. "You were all orange and blazing against the sunset, but you were looking up at the moon. You were so beautiful, so sad…"

Misty is quiet for a moment, before she asks, "Can I see it?"

"I don't have it anymore," Ash admits. Misty's face flushes with hurt. Ash reaches across to her and pulls her down on his shoulder, the hard globe of her pregnant stomach between them. "I carried it around with me for years. The chalk all rubbed away, it tore along the folds... It just fell apart in my hands. I kept the scraps. But one day I threw them into the ocean, to wish for luck. Then I came to Cerulean to tell you that I loved you."

Misty is silent. She presses her face into the warmth of his neck. Ash cups a large hand around the back of her head and rubs the other over the arc of her stomach.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	14. No!

**[NO!]**

It had begun _so_ well. The bag, lurid and pink, gleaming with naughty promise. Ash, almost as pink and boyishly eager as he held it out to her.

Misty peered inside, manoeuvring the tissue paper wrapping to one side.

"This better be a joke," she said carefully, her voice neutral and low. Ash's expression froze.

"I er, I er, I…" he stammered, the blush receding from his face to be replaced by pale fright.

"You are DISGUSTING!" Misty shrieked, thrusting the bag back into Ash's arms. He dropped it as if it were electrified.

"Misty! I, I, I!"

"Don't!" Misty drew herself up to her full height, turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving Ash shaking in her wake.

I mean, _honestly_! It was _sick_, she thought, furiously. The yellow silk baby-doll dress she could deal with, but the matching Pikachu ears and tail was just taking it _way_ too far!

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	15. Oasis

**[OASIS]**

The certificate, when it finally arrived, was stiff with gilded edges.

_This voucher entitles the bearer_ _to one day of treatments for two guests at Goldenrod City's world famous Oasis Spa._

Mudpacks! Manicuring! Massages!

To be honest, Ash couldn't think of anything worse.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Oh wow. She actually couldn't think of _anything_ better. Misty shook her head fondly as she took the certificate from her bag again. Typical that he would give her something he'd won for free, but it's the thought that counts…

She looked up at the electronic hum of the doors swinging open and Ash loped into the tiled Reception hall, lifting one hand out of his pocket in greeting.

"Hey Birthday girl," he said, running that same hand leisurely through his hair. "You're early."

"No, you're late," Misty retorted as she rose from the bench. A smile broke through on her face and she squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "Seriously Ash, thanks for this, I've been so looking forward to it!"

Ash's hand returned to the deep recess of his pocket.

"I've been _dreading_ it," he grumbled. "I was really _annoyed_ when they told me that I had to come too because it was in my name… I thought that you could take one of your sisters or somethin'…"

"Well Ash," Misty smirked as she reached down to pick up her handbag, "think of it like me getting to see you in a facemask being an extra birthday present in itself…"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"Misty. Misty. Misty?"

"Ash!" Misty finally snapped, "we're meant to be _relaxing_. In _silence_."

She heard a few unhappy shufflings to her left.

"But Misty…"

"What, what is it?" Misty gave in, reaching up to slide the cucumber slices off her eyes and glaring at him. Ash lay on the futon beside her, cucumber still in place, looking small and vulnerable in his fluffy white robe.

"I just… wanted to talk."

There was a glimpse of white tooth as Ash nervously chewed on his lip. Misty softened immediately.

"Sure…" she said quietly, taking his temporary sightlessness as an opportunity to review his face; they didn't get to spend that much time together nowadays. "So what's up?"

"Nothing…" She watched as his brow furrowed with annoyance. "Nothing," he repeated, his voice a little stronger. Misty observed in quiet fascination as a pink flushed to life under the tan of his cheeks. "Don't worry about it… Just enjoy your day."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"Misty. Misty. Misty?"

"What now?"

"I don't _want_ shiny nails."

"Ash! The lady is _right there…_"

"I don't want shiny nails!"

"Sir, don't worry. I am not going to paint your nails, I'm only going to buff them."

"… I don't want shiny nails…"

"Ash!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"Misty. Misty. Misty?"

"Yes Ash?"

"What's in this stuff?"

"Not sure. Seaweed?"

"It smells like sludge."

"It probably is then."

"… Girls are _disgusting_."

"You won't be saying that when you are admiring your glowing complexion."

"My glowing _what_?"

"Never mind."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"Okay sir, just let me know if I'm hitting the right spots."

"Eh?"

"Let me know what feels good."

"…uh…"

"There?"

"What!"

"Ash! Lie still!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"Misty. Misty. Misty?"

"Mmm?"

"…do my nails look shiny to you?"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"_What _are you drinking?"

"Appletini! It's almost good for you, because it's almost fruit!" Misty giggled and swirled the green liquid around in her glass. "Try some?" She smothered a laugh as Ash wrinkled his nose and sipped the drink, the delicate martini glass looking ridiculous in his large hand. "Like it?"

"I think I'll stick with beer," Ash laughed, putting the glass back down on the bar and shifting uncomfortably on the black leather stool. "So, have you had a nice birthday?"

"Of course! Thank you _so_ much Ash! I look gorgeous, I feel gorgeous! And it was so nice to spend time together, just you and me," she said. "And it's nice to know that things haven't changed. That me and you… we're still the same. That you're still my best friend." She smiled shyly at him. His usual reaction to this rarely-stated accolade was a shrug and an embarrassed grin. This time he just stared at his feet and brushed imaginary lint off his jeans.

"Yup," he finally said, abruptly standing up. "We're still the same. Of course we are. Come on, let's go."

He stooped to pick up her bag from the floor and went to hand it to her. At the last second he changed his mind and clutched it to his chest. "Wait," he said, the loudness of his voice belied with a hint of panic. "Wait. Misty. Misty. I don't want things to be the same."

Misty stared at him, alarm avalanching into her stomach . Not today.

"Ash-" she tried, but he barrelled onwards regardless.

"I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to… see… if you…"

"Ash, no." This time he listened, stopping mid-flow and inhaling shakily. They stared at one another, her expression pleading, his face dark and unreadable. Silently he held her handbag out to her.

"Sorry," he said. She reached for her bag and they stood there with it between them. Misty felt a lurch in her stomach, kicking its way through the cold.

"Ash…" she repeated, lamely.

"It must have been the appletini talking." He gave her a weak smile and relinquished his hold on the bag. "I'm gonna go check us out down at Reception."

He closed the door behind him with a soft click. Misty rubbed her hand across her brow and traced the stem of her glass with her other hand, probing at the icy lump of panic in her stomach. What was wrong with her? It wasn't the first time that this had happened. It was always the same. Ash, clammy and solemn, his face tight and fearful. The conversation she couldn't bear to face, the risks she couldn't bring herself to chance.

She downed the rest of her drink and rose to leave, swinging her bag up onto her shoulder.

She could hear Ash's deep voice as she descended the stairs towards the Reception hall.

"And your card… and your receipt. Thank you Mr Ketchum!" smiled the receptionist.

"Thanks," Ash replied politely, pocketing the paper receipt and slipping his credit card back into his wallet.

Misty stopped at the foot of the stairs. The coolness in her abdomen fell away in the wake of the warmth of realisation. Ash twisted to put his wallet in his back pocket and caught sight of her; he shot her a conciliatory smile, willing to let it go for the time being, as he always was.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Ash… why are you paying?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you paying? I thought you said you won the tickets." Ash paled slightly.

"Oh. I… I…"

Misty deposited her bag on the tiled floor and moved towards him, reaching out to touch his forearm.

"Ash… about earlier… and about all the other times…"

"…What about them?" Misty recognised the same look of impending dread on Ash's face that she had adopted so many times before. It was a knock to her momentum; she let her arm drop from his.

"God, this is… so _difficult_," she laughed bitterly. "This… conversation…"

He missed her mouth at first but quickly readjusted, pressing his lips tentatively against hers. After the briefest instant he pulled back.

"No panic?" he asked. Wordlessly Misty shook her head and smiled. "Good. Me neither." Ash reached up to cup her face and ran a thumb across the lips he had just kissed. "I think conversation is overrated anyway," he grinned, as he bent his head to kiss her again.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

"God, Misty, your face is _so_ soft!"

"… So's yours."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	16. Paparazzi

**[PAPARAZZI]**

Smack! went the paper on the table. Ash peered at it nonchalantly over the rim of his mug before glancing up at her enquiringly. Misty's hands were on her hips, her face as furious and aggressive as the noise she had just made. Ash took another gulp of his milky tea before setting the mug down on the table.

"What is it?"

"Have you seen it?" she hissed.

"Clearly I haven't," Ash retorted, reaching for the paper. "Whatever it is…"

"The social pages. Again." Misty bit off each word.

"Oh!" Ash brightened up immediately and flipped through the pages with renewed interest. "That charity gala the other day?" He quickly came across the article in question, his own self automatically distinctive even in a greyscaled and blurred photograph.

_Above: Pokémon Master Ash Ketchum, _read the picture's caption, _pictured here with a mystery beauty at the 34th Annual Indigo Charity Gala._

Ash winced.

"Misty…"

"Ash, I'm sick of this!" she cried, frustration wetting her eyes. "Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? It's not like we haven't talked about it before!" Ash lowered his eyes guiltily and raked his fingers through his hair

"Aw, come on, you _know_ how it is!" he pleaded. "Don't take it personally!"

"How can I not take this – _this_ – personally!" Misty accentuated her words by thumping the palm of her hand down on the paper, where it trembled and creased up the page. Ash softened and rose from his chair to circle his arms around her. She remained rigid and angular in his hold.

"Misty," he soothed, "it doesn't mean anything…"

"It's just _rude," _she sniffed, softening against him. "Plus it's bad journalism! _Every_ single time! I mean, I'm a _GymLeader_ for crying out loud! They should know who the hell I am!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	17. Quest

**[QUEST]**

The boy was fair and freckled, his features set into a frown. The girl tossed her hair impatiently over her shoulder as she glared him down.

"Just let it go!"

"Never!" the boy leaned in towards her competitively. "You owe me a Pokémon! I saw that Pidgey _first_ and _you know it_!"

"You snooze, you lose!"

"I was NOT snoozing! Now either give me that Pidgey or go out and catch me one that's BETTER!"

"In your DREAMS!"

"Look, I'm not going _anywhere_ until I get what's coming to me!"

"A shove off a cliff?"

"What was that!"

Ash watched the scene from across the Pokémon Centre lobby with amusement and couldn't help but wonder if this is how adults had seen him all those years ago. It _was_ a bit ridiculous. I mean, you couldn't take three steps outside without falling over Pidgey. Much like he had always had enough money to buy the bike.

The children had walked out of hearing range, but were clearly still arguing, body language aggressive and arms gesticulating wildly. Ash wondered how old they would be when they would finally acknowledge that they travelled with one another for the companionship, that there wasn't – hadn't ever been – any other reason.

He felt a sharp pang of envy for the life stretching ahead of them. The Gyms, the Contests, the never-ending quest. The feeling that would quiver through them when they set their first foot on a new continent. The attitude of arrogance with an undercurrent of awe that would serve them through for many years to come. The first time that he would look at her across the campfire and the light lurch he would feel in his stomach, signalling the start of his own slow evolution - like to lust to love. The first time that she would cheer for him from the sidelines, or nurse him in his sickbed. The hundred thousand conversations that they would never have about how they felt, although he really hoped for their sake that they would, one day.

The argument had dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. The two kids leaned casually against the counter as Nurse Joy administered to their Pokémon, comparing something on their Gears. The girl's laughter rang out across the lobby.

"What are you looking at?" Misty's voice, soft today, came from behind him, and Ash smiled, in that one instant reliving all the years he had spent with that voice constantly coming from behind or aside him. He looked round, and as usual, felt the bittersweet kick in his abdomen at the sight of her.

"The kids," he gestured. Misty smiled back at him.

"Feeling nostalgic?"

"Feeling jealous. They have it all ahead of them. I would love to go back, have the chance to do it all over. Make some changes."

"What would you do differently?" Misty asked with surprise, but Ash just smiled maddeningly back at her, the secret behind his eyes as always.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	18. Reputation

**[REPUTATION]**

She was a bit of a pathetic sight, there on the doorstep, bedraggled and sodden from her walk through the rain. Ash couldn't help but laugh. She muttered something darkly under her breath as she pushed past him into the hallway, leaving wet imprints on the plush of the carpet as she moved towards the kitchen.

"Aw come on, Misty!" Ash called after her, still laughing as he shut the front door. "Your date couldn't have been _that_ bad..!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Misty stretched her fingers out towards the glowing bars of the electric heater.

"I'm beginning to think that there's some kind of conspiracy," she said carefully, shooting a look at Ash. He had his back towards her, busied with making her a drink, but his neck flushed a telltale red.

"Oh yeah?" he replied in a non-committal fashion as he turned. "Your drink!" He placed the tumbler of gin and tonic in front of her. Misty looked at him.

"What are you drinking?" She shook her head as she saw him hesitate. "Uh uh, no way, you're not letting me drink on my own!" He sighed and turned to pour himself a drink. "Oh, more than that!" Misty immediately chastised. "Ash!" Obediently Ash sloshed more spirit into his glass before returning to the table.

"Right then," he said, before pausing to sip from his drink. "What's all this about? You turning up in the middle of the night going on about conspiracies!" Misty groaned and thumped her forehead lightly to the table.

"Ugh! I don't want to talk about it! Not until I'm _drunk_!"

After the initial few drinks the two had moved into the lounge and Misty had been more than happy to play bartender, disappearing into the kitchen with their empty glasses and returning a few minutes later, refreshed gin and tonic in one hand, Ash's whiskey and coke in the other. Ash's earlier nervousness had disappeared. Misty sat neatly on the small part of the couch that he wasn't sprawled over, her long legs pulled up to her chest. She looked at him searchingly over the top of her knees.

"Okay Ash," she said, in a voice that was surprisingly clear. "I'm ready to talk about my date now." Ash shifted on the sofa to a more comfortable position and attempted to match her grave stare, before erupting into laughter. Misty raised an eyebrow. "You're drunk."

"So are you!" Ash retorted.

"Am I?" Misty asked, her eyebrow raising even higher. Ash was momentarily struck dumb.

"Well… yeah! I mean… aren't you?"

Misty didn't answer him. She just let her chin rest on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs more tightly.

"So anyway, I was in the bar with Leo…" She stopped as Ash scrunched up his face into a ridiculous expression, seemingly having lost the self-control that had prevented him from doing so before. "Nice. Anyway. So it was going alright, I guess. To be honest I was a little uncomfortable. He kept making weird comments, dodgy jokes… you know…"

"He's a dirty perve," Ash grunted, as he reached forward unsteadily for his glass and took another gulp.

"Yes. So we walked to the train station and I turned around to say goodbye to him, and the next thing I know, he's got his tongue down my throat!"

There was a clatter as Ash dropped his glass in his attempt to place it back on the table. Ash stared at her, face flushed and mouth twisted.

"Oh Ash, the carpet!" Misty cried, moving to stand up. He reached out and grabbed her by the ankle.

"Leave it. Then what?" he asked.

"But the carpet!"

"Then what?" he repeated, his grip on her foot tightening. Reluctantly Misty settled back down.

"Well, I pushed him off, obviously. And he apologised immediately." Ash's grip relaxed, but he left his hand where it was. "And he said that _thing _again… you know? How he must have had the wrong impression…" She paused to look at him searchingly again and took in the unease that he was finding it difficult to conceal after two thirds of a bottle of whiskey. "So, I got to thinking," she continued. "It can't be a coincidence that the last three guys I've gone out on dates with have said the exact same thing. I seem to have some sort of…" she paused as she searched for the word she wanted, "_reputation_ with guys in the League. Not a particularly good one. They seem to think I'm easy."

All at once she was moving, legs and arms unfolding fluidly and leaning in towards him. The unease on Ash's face had evolved into a full-blown panic as he fumbled through his inebriated thoughts for something to say, some defence to the attack he instinctively felt was coming.

"Now where do you think three completely separate guys would get a crazy idea like that?" Misty's voice was casual, conversational, her lips two inches from the tip of his nose. Ash had no reply, his shoulders pressed into the padding of the couch, his eyes fixated on her mouth. "Ash?" she prompted, in the same soft voice.

"I have no idea," he finally managed and Misty withdrew to her haunches, allowing Ash room to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Neither did I," she said quietly. "So I asked."

Ash froze halfway through the motion of sitting up, his hand clutching at the fabric.

"Oh Ash," Misty murmured. "Come on now. Last chance."

"You're not drunk. Are you?" Ash couldn't help the smile that twitched on to his face. Misty shook her head.

"Not really, no."

"Clever girl." Ash finished pulling himself up.

"You were clever too. I might never have found out," Misty replied. "May I ask why?" Ash ran his palm over his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"C'mon Misty, don't get all serious. It was just a joke. It got out of hand. I'm sorry…" He trailed off as he noticed that her expression had tightened.

"Ash…" she murmured. "You're not the sort of low person who would find something like that _funny_. At least, I hope not…"

"Of course not!" Ash protested. Misty tilted her head and shot him a triumphant look as the realisation that she had trapped him dawned on his face.

"Oh, Misty!" Ash groaned, dipping his head and rubbing his temples.

"Why won't you just say it?" Misty cried, momentarily losing her composure. "What's _wrong_? Are you not _drunk_ enough!"

"If I say it, can we STOP talking about it?" Ash yelled back. Misty folded her arms across her chest and stared at him expectantly. Ash sighed and looked down at his hands on his thighs. "I did it…" he said, slowly, "because I didn't want anything to happen between you and those guys. They weren't good enough for you. And I knew that if they came on real strong you'd run a mile, cos you're… you're not like that. Is that what you want to hear?" When she didn't answer him right away he dared to look up. She had a peculiar expression, half exasperation, half affection.

"Thanks Ash," she said, finally. "I guess I'd better be thinking about getting home." She rose slowly from the couch. Ash remained sitting as if paralysed, staring up at her as she moved across the room.

"What… what, is that it!" he finally stammered. Misty paused in the doorway to the kitchen and looked back at him.

"Is there anything else we need to talk about?" They stared each other down across the dim room.

Suddenly Ash was on his feet, urgency pushing aside his drunkenness as he pressed into the doorway as well.

"Is that it?" he repeated, looking down at her. After seeming to consider him for a few moments Misty reached upwards and placed a chaste kiss on his partially open mouth, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I think we should talk more when you're sober," she murmured softly into his neck, and he felt a smile spread across her face. Ash exhaled shakily. Misty slipped into the kitchen and seized her coat from the back of a chair. "Give me a call tomorrow, okay? Please?" Ash shot her a soft look from the doorway.

"Sure thing…"

Misty hesitated a moment longer before moving decisively into the hallway. "Oh, by the way?" she called, as she opened the front door. "If this unsavoury reputation of mine isn't completely stamped out by this time next week? Well, I'm just going to have to start a rumour of my own, take the heat off me. You understand!"

"Aw, Misty!" Ash groaned as her laughter was cut off by the closing of the front door behind her.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	19. Surprise!

**[SURPRISE!]**

The shot glass was small, fiddly and wet. It was a recipe for disaster. Ash's jeans were soaked dark with a cocktail of sambuca, tequila and spiced rum. This made for an over-poweringly sweet smell, which Ash repeatedly informed anyone who would listen.

"Well I think it smells really nice!" Tracey professed, pouring another line of tequila shots and pausing to lick the overspill off his fingers.

"Eurgh, Trace, wait," Ash shook his head unsteadily and held up his hands. "I think I need a coupla minutes…"

"No way." Brock picked up his shot glass, downed the contents and slammed it back to the table in one fluid motion. He hiccupped as he suppressed a gag. "You're eighteen now!" he admonished Ash. "Time to be a _man!_"

Ash earnestly nodded his agreement and reached for a shot. It took him three attempts to get it all down this time, but having managed it, he beamed with pride, slamming the glass back down to the table as Brock had done.

"Yeah!" Brock shouted. "Wooooo!"

"Wooo!" Tracey agreed, holding his shot out towards Ash in salute before tipping his head back and swallowing it in two slow gulps.

"ASHFEST TWO-THOUSAND-AND-NIIIIIINE!" Ash bellowed, drumming his hands on the table. An appreciative cheer went up from the rest of the bar, drinks held aloft in approval.

"We should have a Garyfest _next _year!" slurred Gary as he passed, the neck of a bottle of beer gripped precariously between finger and thumb.

"Guys," Ash said, as he sat heavily on a stool and shifted around to catch his balance. "You're the best! This is SUCH a great party!"

"It was nothin'!" Tracey laughed as he drew swirls on the wet table with his fingertip.

"Yeah Ash, you deserve a big do!" Brock agreed.

"But! But!" Ash continued, his face flushed and sweaty as he gestured around for the words he wanted. "It's _such_ a great PARTY!" he repeated, almost slipping off the stool in his enthusiasm. Brock guffawed as Ash scrambled to get his balance back.

"Okay Ash, I think we'll take a break from shots o'clock now!" Tracey laughed.

"No WAY!" slurred Brock, reaching petulantly for a shot glass. "It's not a TRULY great party until someone is sick. Preferably Ash." He shot the tequila with a sharp, decisive movement as if to illustrate his point and immediately erupted into a fit of coughing.

"Guys…" Ash continued over Brock's spasms, eyes vaguely fixed on the coloured lights on the ceiling. "I just wanted to say guys… I just… wanted to say… I just…"

"We love you too man!" Tracey reached out to thump Ash on the arm fondly. Brock recovered and immediately reached for the bottle of sambuca.

"GAYS!" he crowed with triumph. "Come on girls, this'll put hairs on your chest!"

"Brock!" Ash whined, "I don't feel so good…"

"Do it, or you're not getting your PRESENT!" Brock thrust the little glass into Ash's face, which lit up at the last word.

"Present?" he slurred. "Present? Of course I want my present! Gimme that!" he swiped the glass out of Brock's hand, spilling at least of a quarter of it down his shirt and pulling it up to his mouth. Mid-shot he hiccupped and half the liquid flowed unceremoniously down his chin. Brock shook his head.

"No good kiddo, another."

"But Brrrrrrrock!"

"Or no present!"

Ash scowled and stood up to fill the glass again. His face screwed in deep concentration as he tipped the bottle and overfilled the glass.

"You're wasting it…" Tracey said forlornly.

This time Ash was forced to practically sip the drink down, one tiny mouthful at a time between the onslaught of hiccups, before crashing down to the wet floor with a thump. Brock and Tracey burst into laughter while trying to hoist their friend up.

"No!" Ash moaned, hooking his feet under the table. "Leave me! S'comfortable down here. Comfortable! Want my present!"

"Okay kiddo," Brock laughed, before turning to the rest of the party guests. "Gentlemen!" he called, "may I have your attention for the giving of the presents!" The inebriated crowd cheered their approval and gathered closer. "Mine and Tracey's first!" Brock said, gesturing towards the door. "Happy 18th Ash!"

The door pushed open and Tracey reappeared through it, face flushed with exertion. He was pulling a wheeled platform behind him, upon which was placed a five foot high cake, gleaming with white frosting. The crowd broke into uproarious approval, stamping their feet and banging their palms on table tops. Almost as an afterthought, the bar owner pressed play on the sound system, and a tinny recording of For He's A Jolly Good Fellow flowed out of the speakers. Tracey and the cake came to a stop in front of Ash. He stared up at it from his position on the floor.

"Oh god," he murmured, running his sticky hands over his equally sticky face.

"Well!" Brock jostled his shoulder."Don't you like it? Say something!"

"Brock!" Ash wailed pitifully through the hiccups. "If there's a naked girl in there, I'm going to _kill you_!" Brock looked surprised.

"Ash, of COURSE there's a naked girl in there! Why do you think this party was guys only?" Ash put his head in his hands again and whimpered.

"I don't want some dirty stripper lady to be dancin' about," he moaned.

"Ash, er, she can, er, probably hear us…" Tracey cautioned, eyeing the cake with concern.

"GET ON WITH IT!" bellowed Gary from the sidelines. "TIME FOR TITTIES!"

"Gary! You have a _girlfriend_!" Tracey admonished in a shocked voice.

"So do I!" Ash whined. Brock snorted.

"Jeez Ash, don't exaggerate. You have a _Misty_…"

"Yes, and she's going to _kill me_! I want… another drink…" Ash reached up and fumbled on the table top for a shot glass.

"Well Misty will never have to know!" Brock said, beguilingly. "Nobody here will ever tell her, right guys?" There was a sound of agreement from the rest of the room. "And it's not like you two are _actually_ going out or anything official yet… so… think of it as… one last little… treat!"

"And she's probably not got much air in there…" Tracey continued quietly to himself.

Ash gave up trying to find a shot glass and instead heaved himself back up to a standing position.

"Brock!" he repeated, looking up at the taller man. "I can't! I can't! I don't want anyone else! I want Misty!" He sniffed, and stared at the sticky floor. "I miss Misty…" He slumped back onto his stool again. "I don't feel so good."

"We're sorry Ash," Tracey began, carefully. "We er, didn't realise that you were that serious about her…"

"Yeah I mean, it's Misty…" Brock continued. Ash sighed and hiccupped wetly.

"I know," he said slowly, as if he was explaining something simple to someone very stupid. "It's Misty. And I love her."

Brock and Tracey exchanged nervous looks over the top of Ash's head.

"Ash…" Tracey said warningly.

"She is _lovely_," Ash continued, closing his eyes and smiling. "So of course I love her!" He suddenly broke into a spasm of giggles. "Love her! Love love love love love! Hahahahahahahaha!" His laughter was infectious and soon everyone was in fits. Ash leapt off the stool and held his arm up in the air in a gesture of victory.

"I'm Ash Ketchum! I'm eighteen years old! And I AM IN LOVE!" he crowed triumphantly, to the crowd's roar of cheers. "So sorry lady…" Ash turned towards the cake and froze. Misty's head and shoulders stuck out from the hatch at the top of the cake, a peculiar expression on her face.

"That… was really unromantic…" she murmured. "As opposed to telling me to my face, I mean…"

"Misty!" Ash squeaked.

"Sorry kiddo," Brock clapped his hand to Ash's shoulder blade. "It er, wasn't meant to go down like this…"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be funny… a surprise…" Tracey winced.

"We didn't know you were going to get all… serious and mushy…"

Ash ignored them and moved towards the cake.

"Are you cross?" he asked Misty. She shook her head slowly.

"No Ash, I'm not cross."

"You know I mean it?" Ash asked, earnestly.

"I know you mean it."

Stumbling slightly Ash tried to climb the tiers of the cake like steps. His foot sank down through the two inches of frosting and sponge before hitting the plastic shell of the inside of the cake and he scrambled up. He reached for Misty's face and ran his thumbs across her cheeks, smearing them with frosting.

"Happy birthday," she finally smiled, reaching for him back and pulling his lips against hers to a roar of thunderous male approval and clinking glasses.

Gary downed the rest of the beer in his bottle and thumped it down to the table with a scowl.

"What the hell is this you two?" he growled. "You promised us titties! It's _Misty_. And she's wearing _jeans_ and a _jumper._" Brock slung one arm drunkenly around Gary's shoulders and the other round Tracey's.

"Don't you worry, Gary my man. Misty'll take Ash home with her now. But there's _another_ cake in the back room…"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	20. Turn

**[TURN]**

The two lay beside one another, the silence in the room growing heavy. The warmth that had filled and sustained Ash just a few minutes before was quickly dissipating, and a cold emptiness was solidifying in its place. Still she did not speak to him.

"Can I get you a glass of water or something?" he finally said, his voice formal and over-loud in the tense atmosphere. Misty picked at her fingernails absently.

"No thanks, I'm fine." The silence settled back over them. Pick, pick, went Misty's fingernail against another. Ash's temper flared, a coil of heat flicking through the lump of ice in his stomach.

"Do you feel _better_ now?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Did I do _well_?" Misty sighed and let her hand thud to the blanket.

"Ash, let's not do this…" she said warningly.

"No, that's exactly what I should have said. It's what I _always _should say."

"Ash, you're being ridiculous…"

"Don't I know it!" Ash laughed bitterly, drawing his knees up under the covers and pressing the heels of his palms into his forehead. "I can't believe it…" he muttered, "not again. I am such a…" His words trailed off as he looked over at her. "Glutton for punishment," he finished sadly. Concern was etched on her face but she held the covers to her chest with a tight fist and her body language was nervous, as if at any moment she would take flight. Her face, neck and collarbones were flushed, darker red showing where his stubble had scratched her. He could not believe that just five minutes ago he had shared something so intimate with her. The space on the bed between them yawned like a mile.

"Every time," he said sadly. "Every time you've had a bad day… a bad date… why do you do it, Misty?" She stiffened with irritation.

"You could _always_ say no…" she informed him haughtily, dragging the covers up closer to her chin. Ash shook his head in disbelief.

"Of _course _I can't. Don't be ridiculous. You know exactly what you're doing." He shook his head again. "You know _exactly_ how I feel about you." Misty blanched and retreated further back against the headboard of the bed.

"Ash…" she began uneasily.

"I want to love you," Ash interrupted, "in the day time, in the open. Why won't you _let_ me? I know you don't _believe_ me, but all I want is the chance to _show you_." He reached out for her suddenly and placed a large hand on each side of her head, drawing her close to press his forehead against hers. Still she clung to the covers like a lifeline.

"I know that you're sad, Misty," Ash whispered, wincing as he felt the warmth of tears on her face. "I know you're scared. I want to make it better. But this isn't the way. You date all these other men to try and find whatever it is you're looking for, and when you can't find it, you panic, you come to me. And I give you what you want. So, why can't it be my turn?"

Misty exhaled shakily and pulled to free herself from his grasp.

"Ash, stop it. You're… making it far more than it is. I… I… shouldn't take advantage of you like this. I'm sorry."

Ash was silent for a long moment. Sighing, he swung his legs out of the bed and picked up his discarded jeans.

"Yeah but Misty, that's just it. You're not taking advantage of me. If anything, it's the other way around." He pulled his teeshirt roughly over his head and leant across to her, one knee on the bed. Carefully he plucked her white fingers from the covers and raised them to his lips. "I guess it doesn't matter though," he mumbled across her knuckles. "Nothing can stop me being in love with you." He released her hand which shot back to pull the covers to her neck. Ash smiled sadly and leant to kiss her forehead. "I can be as patient as you need me to be."

Misty's bottom lip trembled as she watched him move across the room towards the bedroom door.

"Well then. See you next time?" He smiled the sad smile again, and was gone.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	21. Urges

**[URGES]**

**[9.38am]**

Scuff, scuff, scuff went the rubber of Ash's shoes in the dust. Tccccsh, tccccsh, tccccsh came the sound of the bass escaping from his earphones. Misty's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Suddenly, she quickened her pace, as if intending to walk alongside him, but instead swerved her leg to the left at the last minute. Ash tripped and staggered three steps before crashing unceremoniously to the ground. With a bored expression Brock stepped over him and carried on down the route ahead.

"Misty!" Ash coughed in the dust cloud he had created. "What the hell?" Misty pressed her lips together to prevent a laugh breaking through. Adopting the same bored expression as Brock, she shrugged.

"Sorry…" she said, in a voice that didn't sound very sorry at all. "Just got the urge to."

"The _urge?"_ Ash repeated incredulously.

"Yup." She turned to continue. "Couldn't help myself."

Ash glowered at her back as she walked swiftly to catch up with Brock.

**[11.05am]**

"Hey, Misty…"

Misty turned automatically to respond and found herself nose to the neck of Ash's water bottle.

"Wh-" was all she managed to get out before Ash gleefully squeezed the plastic and half-drowned her.

"What the HELL you JERK?" she spluttered, rubbing her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket. Ash stuck his grinning face in hers.

"Sorrrrrry!" he sniggered. "Just got the _urge_!" Misty swiped out at him but he ducked and danced playfully up the road.

**[1.13pm]**

Ash, having squandered all his drinking water, was forced to stop off at a stream to quench his thirst. Cupping the water in his hands he sipped a bit, then sluiced the remainder over his face.

"Excuse me," came a deep voice from behind him. "Are you Ash Ketchum?" Warily Ash turned and stood. The man was every bit as large and imposing as the deep voice had indicated.

"Who's asking..?" Ash replied cautiously.

"My name is Jimbo," the man boomed. "The lil lady over there said that we might have… something to discuss… should swap Gear numbers… you get me?"

Ash brightened immediately. A Trainer!

"Sure!" he beamed, reaching for his Gear and holding it out for Jimbo to read his details off the display screen. "So, do you wanna… do this now?" he asked, eager for a battle. The man guffawed.

"Patience, lil man," he smiled, looking at him slowly from top to toe. "This isn't the time or the place!"

"Oh…" Ash replied, a little confused. "Okay…"

"Anyway, I've gotta clear off… but I'll send you a message so you've got my number… and maybe… we can meet up in the next town? And we can… see this thing through?" Jimbo winked playfully.

"Sure!" Ash agreed, stowing his Gear again. "I look forward to it!"

"Oh, me too lil man!" Jimbo laughed, raising a hand in farewell. "Me too!" With one last lingering look, he turned and upped his pace to return to the knot of people waiting for him further up the road. At the same time, Misty and Brock made their way leisurely down the slope towards the stream bank.

"Looks like you made a friend…" Misty thumped him on the arm teasingly.

"He seemed nice…" Ash agreed mildly. "We're gonna meet up in the next town…" For some reason, Misty found this hysterically funny. Ash eyed her nervously. "What's with you?"

Ash's Gear vibrated, alerting him that he had received a message:

_Hey sexy, it's Big Jimbo, sorry about the swift exit. Can't wait to see you again! Let me know your ETA and I'll be waiting. Can't wait to taste some of that sweet –_

Ash shrieked and flung his Gear away from him in a panic. Misty collapsed in howls of laughter. Brock looked disapproving.

"Seriously Ash, come on now. The guy was wearing makeup. And pink skinny jeans."

**[4.42pm]**

Ash placed his tray on the table beside Misty and stepped over the bench to sit down.

"Rice?" she offered.

"No thanks," Ash said meekly, instead picking up a cupcake with yellow frosting from his tray and devouring it in three short bites. Misty smiled and shook her head. "Good cupcake?"

"Yup, delicious," Ash answered, in the same mild voice. "What have you got there, blueberry?"

"Yup." As Misty turned her attention to reach for the sauces in the middle of the table, Ash deftly plucked her muffin from her tray and held it up to his face. After a short forced inhale, he erupted into a spluttering coughing fit. Composing himself again, he placed the muffin carefully down in front of an aghast Misty.

"Smells good," he said placidly, turning back to his tray.

**[7.10pm]**

"Ha ha! Level TWENTY EIGHT!" Ash crowed victoriously, hunching as close as possible to the screen of his Gameboy. "I am on FIRE tonight!"

"That's great Ash!" Misty encouraged, sitting down next to him on the Pokémon Centre couch.

"Mmhmm," Ash responded, preoccupied entirely with keeping his pixelated character alive.

"You've never managed to get that high before!" Misty continued.

"Mmhmm… comeoncomeoncomeon… YES!"

After a moment's thought, Misty reached across and flipped the Gameboy to off.

**[10.21pm]**

Ash folded his arms behind his head and regarded the slant of light from the window stretched on the ceiling. In the bunk underneath him Misty sleepily shifted position and exhaled contentedly, the soft noise almost drowned out by the light snores emanating from Brock on the couch under the window.

Ash quietly moved and hung his head over the side, seeing her as an angular shape of grey in the darkness.

"Misty," he called quietly. "You awake?" She shifted onto her back again and made a small noise of assent. "Mind if I come down?" She made the noise again, and Ash deftly threw off his covers and shinned silently down the ladder. Ducking his head, he sat on the edge of her bed.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Nothing much…" Ash whispered back. "Was just thinking… and just wanted to say… how great it is to have you back. I've… really missed you, Misty…" Misty was struck into a stunned silence.

"But Ash!" she finally managed, her whispered voice growing louder in her bewilderment. "I've… I've done nothing but pick fights with you all day!" Ash smiled widely, and placed a finger over his lips to quieten her.

"I know," he murmured, dipping his head lower so she could hear him. "Like I said… I really missed you."

Misty felt the wash of his warm breath against her face as he closed in on her and confidently pressed his lips to hers. Pulling back, he shot her a grin that was mocking and sarcastic, even now.

"Just got the urge to. Sorry…" he whispered, in a voice that didn't sound very sorry at all…

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	22. Vanity

**[VANITY]**

Ash looked up from his Gameboy. Misty's tongue was poking out of the right side of her mouth as she concentrated on her task. He frowned and returned his attention to his game. He was bored. This was boring. Girls were so boring!

Misty made a satisfied sound and held her tweezers up to the light, to better inspect the offensive hair that she had just plucked from her brow.

"Wow, that's a big one!" she said, sounding oddly pleased with herself.

"Eurgh, Misty, that's disgusting!" Ash whined from the bottom bunk. "Can't you do that in the _bathroom_?"

"The light just here is perfect," Misty replied absently, as she raised her hands again - one holding the tweezers and the other a compact mirror – and resumed her grooming. Ash flipped over onto his stomach and glowered at her.

"You're getting hairs all over the couch!"

"Oh no!" Misty intoned sarcastically. Ash continued to glare hotly at her for a few moments more, before rolling back onto his back sulkily.

"If you're bored Ash, you could always let me do yours…" Misty finally said, dropping her hands to her lap. Ash barked a laugh.

"Very unlikely, Misty."

"Come on! There's no shame in being well-groomed! Lots of men have a beauty regime!"

"Like who!"

"Well, Gary for one!" Ash's eyes flashed up from the screen, his game forgotten. Misty fought back a smile. "Of course! You don't think that perfect eyebrow arch comes naturally, do you!"

"Seriously?" Ash put the console down and pushed himself up on his elbow.

"Oh I'm sure of it!" Misty assured him. "But… well… never mind." She raised the compact mirror to her face again.

"Never mind what?" Ash asked immediately. "Never mind what?"

"Oh, nothing," Misty answered airily. "Just realised… maybe we shouldn't do your eyebrows. Apparently some people find it painful. Maybe you wouldn't be able to handle it?" Ash scowled and was up from the bed in a flash.

"Painful? Ha! If you can handle it – and if _Gary_ can handle it! – then I'm sure _I'll_ have NO problem at ALL!" He folded his arms confidently across his chest. "So let's do this!"

The smile that Misty had been fighting broke through on to her face and she grinned widely at her friend.

"Okay… come over here into the light." Ash obeyed and placed himself on the couch at her side. "Head back," she ordered, as she raised herself up on her knees and leaned over his face to inspect his unruly brows. "Ooh Ash!" she murmured, moving closer and placing one knee inside his thighs to afford herself better balance. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time!" Immediately Ash's face coloured and one of said eyebrows cocked upwards at her. Realising too late the double entendre, Misty scoffed and tapped Ash on the nose with the tweezers to cover her embarrassment. "Puh-lease, grow up!" she laughed.

As she had suspected, Ash was seemingly unbothered by the small sting as each eyebrow hair was pulled out by the root. He stared vacantly ahead as she worked, his chest barely moving as he breathed.

"Okay, I think I might be done," Misty said finally, straightening up on her knees. "Hang on a second." She grabbed his face with both hands and smoothed a thumb down each newly shaped eyebrow. "Perfect!" she smiled at him. "Much better!" Ash smiled up at her.

"Misty, come here," he beckoned. "You've got one on your cheek." Dutifully Misty dipped her head nearer to his, and Ash reached out with finger and thumb to lift a loose eyebrow hair off of the swell of her cheek, before pinching it between them.

"Make a wish," he said, his voice low and calm, his eyes dark and full of intent. This time Misty couldn't stop the blush from rising on her skin.

"Ash, that's eye_lashes_," she corrected him. Suddenly she felt the fingers of his other hand on the bare triangle of skin between the hem of her tee-shirt and the waistband of her jeans, his palm flattening and sliding up under her top. Ash rolled his eyes.

"God, Misty… why can't you ever just _go with it_?" he asked, before firmly pressing down on her back and guiding her lips to his.

"Ash…" she murmured against the kiss, her last vestige of hesitation.

"Shhh." He placed a hand on either side of her head, mirroring her own on his. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time..."

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	23. Water

**[WATER]**

"But Misty…" Ash's voice was slow and patronising and directed at the top of his girlfriend's bowed head. "You don't _need_ to be doing this…"

Misty kept reading.

"You know I do."

"No, you don't," Ash needled. "This isn't what being a GymLeader is about!"

"How would you know?" Misty replied good-naturedly as she continued to skim the dense prose on the page.

"Seriously, what are they going to ask you! What do you need to know more about Water Pokémon than… against Electric… bad! Against Fire… good!"

Patiently Misty placed her finger to mark her place in the text and looked up at him. He was slumped on the desk opposite her, running the side of his fingernail up and down a well-worn groove in the wood. She had to try and keep her patience. Written examinations were a concept completely alien to him, and spending the afternoon in a hushed and dusty building watching her study probably wouldn't feature highly on a list of his preferred activities.

"Ash, the theory tests are important. I could lose my Gym License if I fail even _one,_" she reiterated for the sixth time that day. "I'm sorry Ash, but I did warn you! You shouldn't have visited this weekend…"

"Hey, hey!" Ash reached across the desk and took both of her hands in his, and Misty bit her lip to conceal her dismay at losing her place. "Idiot, I barely get to see you as it is - and besides! - I want to help!" Misty smiled and squeezed his hands diffidently before extracting hers from his grip and reaching for the textbook again.

"Okay, if you want to be _helpful_, you can go find me the books on this list. They should all be over in that wing." She handed him a piece of paper torn from her notebook and nodded her head in the direction of the western wing of the library. Ash peered at her scrawled handwriting, decided he could just about decipher the book names thereon and hopped impatiently to his feet.

"No problem!" he announced, "leave it to me!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Misty closed '_The Common Thesis of the Properties of the Water/Ice Element Dual Type Pokémon'_ with a heavy thud and rubbed at her aching eyes. She glanced at her watch with some trepidation. No, it wasn't just that finishing that book had _felt_ like it had taken forever – Ash had been gone for an hour. Stiffly she got to her feet and went in search of him.

Ash was sitting cross-legged on one of the desks downstairs in the western wing of the library, a large hardback book on his lap, the paper yellowed and rough with age and its content apparently interesting enough to have kept him engrossed for the past hour. Misty felt a rush of affection for her hopeless boyfriend and slipped quietly onto the desk beside him. He looked up at her and beamed.

"Misty!" He kissed her quickly on the cheek. "This book is great. It's all about Pokémon mythology! There's some pretty amazing stories in here!"

"Oh yeah?" Misty smiled. "Did you get my books by any chance?" Ash's grin faltered.

"Er, no, sorry… guess I got… sidetracked…"

Misty gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes.

"Figures! Well, it doesn't matter. Won't be doing any more studying this weekend anyway."

"Oh Misty, I'm sorry!" Ash flustered, getting to his feet. "Don't wreck your studying because of me being here, you should come back tomorrow…"

Misty stretched from her sitting position and silenced him with a kiss.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured. "I have next weekend to study before the exams anyway. And anyway, this is one of my very special, very rare weekends where I get to be Misty the Girlfriend, not Misty the GymLeader." Ash smiled, and defeated into silence he pressed his forehead against hers and hugged her tight. "Now, shall we go grab some dinner?" Misty asked.

"Yeah!" Ash pulled back excitedly and lifted her off the table and back onto her feet. "I'm RAVENOUS!"

Misty laughed and allowed herself to be led out of the library.

"I assumed so!"

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

The library was a lot quieter the next weekend. The chair across from her where Ash had been sitting the week before was a continuous distraction and, before she knew it, an hour had passed with not much studying to show for it. Sighing she got to her feet. She couldn't let herself be so preoccupied. Grabbing the list of books that she had given Ash the previous week she made her way to the western wing to source more books.

She looked down at the first name on the list.

'_Revelation Lugia: Legendary Water Pokémon and their Impact on Anthropology'._

She skimmed the wall of book spines in front of her, running her finger along them until she found the correct one. Pulling it off the shelf, the pages fell open and a little scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. On reflex she bent to pick it up.

_Good luck Misty!_ Ash's handwriting on the paper called up at her. _I know you can do it!_

Misty stared at the piece of paper, feeling warmth emanating throughout her whole body. Oh Ash. So that's why he was gone for so long.

Quickly she located the next book on her list, and the next, and the next and the next. Ten minutes later she sat on the floor in the aisle with a little pile of precious paper scraps on her lap.

_You're going to do great! You always do amazingly!_

_You're so smart, you know that you don't even need to study but you do anyway!_

_I wish that I could be here with you every weekend. Even if I have to sit in the library._

_I miss you so much when we're apart._

Carefully she folded each one and slipped it into her pocket before getting to her feet and heading back towards her bag. She would come back and finish today's study schedule later, but first she needed to ring Ash and thank him for his thoughtfulness. And to tell him that she missed him too.

As she crossed the expanse where the desks were she noticed that the large book of mythology that Ash had been reading the week before was still on the trolley for restacking. On a whim, she picked it up and shook it gently. One last little message for her dislodged and danced its way down to the library floor.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	24. Xenophobia

**[XENOPHOBIA]**

Misty exited Sunyshore City through the western gate, pushing herself free of the crowds with relief. The tarmac gave way to Route 222, the simple dirt road compacted to hardness by the hundreds and thousands of feet that had passed this way before her. Misty stopped by the white picket fence that separated route from grassland and dropped her large tote bag to her feet. Leaning against the fence she rotated her shoulders back in their sockets and stretched her hands up to the skies, easing out the tensions of a week sleeping third class. Barely ten foot in front of her the greens and browns of the grasslands faded into the silvery sands that were particular to this region. Twenty feet beyond that, the tide crept in, the ocean the same as ever, which - she reasoned - made sense, as it's always the same water, isn't it?

Abandoning her backpack next to her tote, she meandered to the edge of the grasses and peered at the sand. She had seen it on television, of course, and Ash had mentioned its peculiarity. She bent and scooped it in her hand. It streamed through her fingers, tightly clenched together though they were, the grains so fine that it was like a glittering flow of water, or something magical. Misty grunted and dumped the remainder back to the ground. Returning to a standing position she kicked off her shoes and stepped onto this strange, foreign beach. The sand was cold, even though the climate of Eastern Sinnoh was generally temperate. Misty stared out over the sea that she had just crossed; for the first time in her well-travelled years she was struck by homesickness and hesitation.

"Hello stranger," came a voice from behind her. Misty turned to see Brock, still with his shoes on, slipping and ungainly on the sand, her two bags on his shoulder and her shoes held in his hand.

"Brock!" she cried, genuinely delighted and flung her arms around him. He was the same as ever, tall and strong as a pillar, and suddenly she felt a little less adrift. He returned the hug with his one free arm. "What's with the baggage train?" he asked, indicating her bags with a shrug. "The GymLeader life has made you soft!"

"One is full of presents, don't be ungrateful!" Misty released him and stepped back to look at him again. "I thought you and Ash might want some sweets and stuff from back home!" She glanced back up the sloping beach. "Where is he?"

Brock gave a tight smile that she didn't quite understand.

"Well, you weren't at the meeting point… He and Dawn headed off to the Pokémon Centre." Misty gave a tight smile of her own.

"But you found me?"

"I followed the breadcrumbs." Brock indicated her bags and shoes again. Misty reached to take her shoes from him and the two turned to slide their way back up the shifting incline to the road.

"I hope that this Dawn likes sweets from Kanto," Misty said, after a moment's thought.

"I'm sure she will," was Brock's neutral reply.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Ash wasn't there when they got to the Pokémon Centre. Dawn was, and Misty made awkward conversation with her while Brock went to minister to his team. She was sweet enough, alternating between shyness and rapid chitchat. She was all peaches and cream complexion and excitable youth. She almost reminded Misty of Ash, way back when there were still things in life for them to get _this_ excited about.

Brock returned alone. Ash, it transpired, had checked the group in for the night and immediately gone out.

"Maybe he's gone back to Route 222, or to the harbour to see if you're around?" Dawn suggested, all ingenuity. Brock smiled that odd smile again. The trio wandered down to the harbour, and then west back onto Route 222. They talked more easily now, and laughed as they helped themselves to Misty's bag of treats as they went. Dawn's little face shone with awe as the two older companions described for her the southern landmass of Kanto and Johto, the wharves of Vermillion City, the towers of Saffron, the bright lights of Blackthorn. The hot, tight feeling that had crowded Misty's abdomen since she left home loosened and her body only groaned slightly to be forced back into that old routine of walking, walking, always walking. She relaxed. She guessed she was still a traveller at heart after all.

Evening fell and they had a simple dinner in a cheap restaurant, Brock pleading that it was as much a holiday for him as for Misty. Misty ate with one eye on the door and waited patiently for the coldness of anger to slide in and replace the warmth that twisted sickly in her stomach. It didn't come, and neither did Ash.

"You know Ash," Brock said, and his tone was apologetic. "He gets… sidetracked." Misty pushed her food around her plate and didn't reply, because, it was true, she knew exactly what he meant.

When they got back to the Pokémon Centre she didn't feel too much like socialising. Pleading exhaustion from the travel and day's long walk she headed to her room, leaving Brock and Dawn downstairs, matching expressions as strange as Brock's smiles on their faces as they watched her go.

She knew that he was in the room as soon as she opened the door.

"Sorry Misty," he said, immediately, as if to prove he wasn't attempting to be subtle about his presence. Misty quietly closed the door behind her. She didn't turn the light on, and Ash was a silhouette backlit by the streetlights bleeding in around the curtains, a ghost, all lit up in gold. She imagined that he couldn't see her at all now. "You were a couple of days early…" he said, like that was reason enough for his day-long absence. At this Misty balked.

"I wrote ahead and told you," she snapped back, moving closer. "What's the big deal?"

"I wasn't ready for you," Ash replied immediately, his voice amused and as infuriating as ever. Now she was closer Misty could smell something alien, something cloying that filled the room.

"Ash," she sniffed, and moved nearer still. "Ash, are you wearing perfume?"

"Cologne," he corrected, without a hint of shame.

Misty burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. She hadn't even known he knew the world cologne. A few seconds later Ash joined her.

"I was hoping that's how you'd react!" he managed to say. Misty moved forward and finally hugged him hello, pressing her cheek into the fabric of his top so hard she wondered absently if she would have the little criss-crosses of fibres imprinted onto her skin. Both of his arms encircled her and pinned her closer still. This near she could smell his real scent underneath the fragrance, honest and musty like dirt roads in the summer.

He rested his chin on the top of her head – he was tall enough to do that now, she noted. The years had changed them. She had gotten softer, rounder and he sinewy and strong. She had guessed as much from their frequent vidphone conversations, but she hadn't really been prepared. He was so immediate, here in this small, dark room.

"I'm sorry," Ash said again, but he didn't let go of her. "I just wanted to see you first on our own. Just me and you again." His voice had dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, and Misty didn't reply, because she realised she knew exactly what he meant.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	25. Yesterday

**[YESTERDAY]**

_Ash,_

began the letter, her handwriting cursive and neat in blue ink.

_Thank you so much for my birthday card and present – even if they got here nine days late! No, seriously, thanks so much, I love the paper. I wish I had loads of penpals now – this stationary set is almost too nice to waste on letters to just you, ha ha!_

_The birthday itself was quite quiet really, we all just went for a meal. Your mother couldn't make it but she sent cards and presents up with Tracey – two romance novels and a massive bar of chocolate! __Heaven!_ - curled, exaggerated handwriting, underlined twice for emphasis.

_The Professor gave me a mousepad... I don't have a computer, but I guess it's the thought that counts! Toiletries and hoards of pink things from the sisters which I won't bore you with… and your stationary set, of course._

_So, you will be pleased to hear that seventeen feels absolutely no different to sixteen! The only difference is I can once again act superior for being officially older than you! Speaking of which, where do you think you'll be in the spring? Will you be back over here for your birthday this time? I haven't seen you on your birthday for years now! And the postage on sending presents between continents is extortionate!_

_Guess I'd better sign off now – save some paper for the next letter!_

_My love to Brock, Pikachu and everyone._

_Missing you,_

_Misty xxx_

she signs with a flourish, the tail of the y curling into three kisses.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

The letters arrived with Misty far more reliably than they did with Ash. It was a pain, really, him not having a fixed point of address. Misty spent far too much time pouring over maps of Sinnoh and calculating which city Ash was likely to be in at which point, and getting her letters out early, just to be sure, so they were always there waiting for him when he arrived.

Ash's latest letter was waiting for her on the kitchen table, conspicuous in a pile of bills and junk mail.

_Dear Misty_,

it started, Ash's handwriting round and expressive in black biro.

_Glad you liked your present. They had loads of other prints too – almost bought myself a Pikachu set but it was kind of girly!_

_Got my fourth badge this week – halfway there! I feel like I've been here forever. And probably will still be at it come my birthday… _and he added a little sad face at the end of the line.

_It's been raining a lot lately. Sick of being damp!_

_I don't understand how it is that I can never think of anything to say in these letters, when I'm the one adventuring round the world – and you can write pages and pages about what DVD you watched with your sisters last night!_

_Not that I am not interested in hearing about what DVDs you watch. It's thrilling, gripping, excit- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Hahaha only joking._

_Wish me luck for the fifth badge – although hopefully I will already have it by the time your letter gets all the way over here!_

_Brock and everyone say hey._

_Love,_

_Ash_

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Ash wasn't sure when the vidphone conversations had phased into letters. You would think that the letters would be less intimate, less personal. Instead he had found it to be the opposite. The vidphone conversations seized up his throat with the immediacy of her, the pressure of the situation forcing each and every relevant piece of information from his head. Constant interruptions of people at both ends meant that they often lapsed into impotent silences. He much preferred the letters. Any time, day or night, he could take out his notepad and scribble a few lines. It was the closest thing he could get to how it used to be, when conversation with her was only a head turn away.

_Dear Misty_,

he started as usual, his back against a rock and his paper angled to catch the most amount of light from the campfire.

_It's cold tonight. I can really feel the winter coming in! Hope you're nice and warm down there in the south!_

_I miss being warm. I have been fantasising all day about being back home, and that barbeque you had where we all had a water fight! IT'S SO COLD AND MISERABLE HERE!_

And here Ash doodled a little miserable Ash-face, complete with hat, under a storm cloud hastily shaded with the side of the nib, a stylised thunder bolt pointing childishly out from the middle.

_I am such an old man, all I do is moan about the weather! OKAY, no more weather talk!_

_The other day I caught Dawn talking to this girl in the Pokémon Centre about how she was real best mates with this glamorous Water Pokémon Master in Kanto. Took me a few seconds to realise she meant you! Hahahaha, clearly she's never actually met you or she would not have been so flattering, hahahaha!_

_No, really, she's a good kid. She will totally idol-worship you when you two meet… although I think it's true that she has a totally skewed opinion of you!_

_Hopefully you two will meet sooner rather than later and all the myths can be dispelled!_

_Love,_

_Ash_

_Shivering somewhere in Eastern Sinnoh!_

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

When the reply came, the top-left hand corner of the Poliwag printed paper was curled up, as if she had been flicking and rolling at the paper in her agitation as she wrote.

_How rude! _the short letter began; she clearly hadn't bothered to pause for grammatical pleasantries. _I think that it's YOU who has the skewed opinion of me! I'm pretty hot stuff you know. Just because you're out of the loop over there… Gym is progressing leaps and bounds and I am always profiled as the next up and coming Water Master! _

_Next time I write to you and tell you that I am going to be featured in Trainer magazines, maybe you should actually bother to read them?_

_From,_

_Misty_

_Who is nice and warm and going out to sunbathe._

_Ha._

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

_Ha! Get over yourself!_ Ash fired back. He had pressed the biro so hard that tiny flecks of ink haloed the words. And then:

_Got another Badge. Easy battle. Pikachu. Not much of a challenge. Felt almost bad for the guy._

was soft and round again, and she knew that he must have continued to write on after a period of calming down.

_So, how many Badges have __you__ given away recently?_

_Still raining. Might start to grow mould. Or drown._

_Love,_

_Ash_

and squeezed in before the bottom of the page was a little cartoon of a girl on a sun lounger, reclining under a big sun that was smiling cheerfully down on her and wearing comical sunglasses. Misty assumed it was her, even though she hadn't worn a side-ponytail for years now. She wondered if he even knew that.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

_Misty_, the next letter started, the slight urgency showcased by the dropping of his usual 'dear'.

_I think you missed me in the last town. We made quite good time. So I haven't gotten any letter?_

_Hope you're okay…_

_Going north west…_

_Love,_

_Ash_

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

_Misty_, once again.

_Still no letter? You okay? Are you out of sync with me or something?_

_Going to ring you from the next Centre to check you're okay…_

_Love,_

_Ash_

and to finish was a small squiggle, that might have been an X for a kiss, but thought the better of.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

_Ash, _came a letter, finally, and the handwriting that he knew so well was smaller, hesitant.

_Sorry I've not been in contact recently. I've been so busy. Writing to you and then working out where best to post to is quite time consuming. No offense._

_I hope you're not still so cold and wet… It's finally turning chilly here, which I guess is to be expected._

_I have turned into you, nothing more exciting to say in my letters either than to comment on the weather! _and it was impossible for Ash to be able to gauge her tone.

_In case I don't get a chance to write to you beforehand… Merry Christmas to you and everyone! Hopefully I may actually get to see you next year? _and in that her tone was unmistakable, her set face visible in the tight smallness of the letters.

_Misty xxx_

and as usual the y swirled off into kisses, but for a reason he couldn't explain, Ash could tell that there was a difference.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

_Dear Misty_,

His black biro must have run out or been misplaced. He wrote in blunt pencil and the smudging caused by his moving hand made little silver puffs appear down the right margin of the page.

_If I have done my calculations right, this letter should reach you before New Year's Eve_, and Misty smiled and rolled her eyes, as it was January the 3rd. _At 10pm have a smile and a toast for me, as I will be entering the new year a whole two hours earlier than you remember! Wow, that's weird. We will be in separate years. Weird!_

_Anyway Misty, here's hoping that the new year brings happiness to you._

_Don't worry about writing me so much. I guess I didn't realise it was so time-consuming for you. I guess you don't have as much free time as me! You're so grown up, with your nine to five and your home with walls…! I'm just a guy with a tent and a pencil (I have NO idea where my pen is and Brock refuses to lend me one, apparently I don't have a good track record with his stuff!) and I'm writing you nonsense at 2.30 in the morning._

_Happy New Year._

_Love,_

_Ash_

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Receiving Ash's letters was always bittersweet. They were a little break in reality, a little spark of nostalgia, but they fed the small part of her that wanted them to be more. After reading one she would always feel let down by herself for feeling that way; she thought that she had outgrown all that.

Ever the advocate of tough love, especially with herself, Misty made herself wait a week to write her response. When she did, she used plain white paper from a pad in the Gym Reception.

_Ash,_

_You are terrible at maths. That letter did not make New Year. Not remotely. Learn to add up._

_I am really busy and grown up, yes, thanks for the compliment (?) – but you forget, you've got a full time job too. You're adventuring, training, seeing, experiencing. Won't get very far with your nose in a pad trying desperately to think of things to write to an old friend back home. _

_Plus I have the Weather Channel if I want to know about the weather in Sinnoh._

_Happy New Year to you too,_

_Misty xxx_

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Now Ash knew Misty very, very well. Better than she thought he did, he would guess. And even in written text he knew the difference between Banteringly Sarcastic Misty and Genuinely Annoyed Misty. And so he read her letter a couple of times through, growing increasingly concerned.

Ash unzipped the back compartment of his backpack, a shallow pocket that ran along the flat underside, and pulled out a sheaf of papers, slightly concave, moulded to the curve of his back. And he read them through like a book, or a journal. Four years of letters. When he was done there was a lump, hard and ugly in his throat.

_I miss you Ash, I miss you. I wish I could see you. I wish you could come home_, and in his head he recounted his replies, Badges and weather patterns and inconsequential anecdotes about his travels.

She didn't say 'Missing you' at the end of her letters any more.

But he'd never said it in any of his.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

The first draft was simple.

_Misty, I miss you_.

The second, a little more heartfelt.

_I just want you to know that I miss you so much._

The third piece of paper added:

_I think about you every single day_.

_I just thought you should know_.

But that sheet too was pulled from the pad and balled up like the others.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Misty checked the post every morning and every afternoon, more disappointed with herself than with Ash. This was to be expected. She told him not to write her so much. He wouldn't read any further between the lines than that.

The weeks sped on. It was one month exactly until his seventeenth birthday when Misty sighed defeat, and took her Poliwag printed stationary set from her drawer.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

By the time Ash entered the next town, the paper was greyed and dog-eared but the letter was done. He read it through one more time, contemplating rewriting the scored and scrawled mess onto a fresh sheet but decided against it. He hoped she'd prefer it that way.

He handed the letter to the Joy, who in turn handed over a small package, an early birthday present from his mother, but no letters. Ash's eyes followed his own letter into the postal sack and hoped that he wasn't too late.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Misty had finished her letter the night before. It had only been three sentences long, but for some reason she'd held off from posting it that morning, even though she knew that she'd left it so late that the timing was already tight. Returning from the pool she saw it waiting on the kitchen counter, now joined by a twin, a battered envelope from that day's post thoughtfully placed there by a sister. She picked it up in her damp hands and pressed the compressed corners of the rectangle thoughtfully. It was heavy, a little bulky. It was more than one page.

Although she knew that she should post her letter first, that she shouldn't risk the unknown contents of this letter allowing her to waiver, she hooked the envelope with a practiced finger and tore it open.

_Misty_, it started, and his handwriting was smaller, compressed, as if he were already conscious that he would be needing as much space as possible.

_I have been thinking a lot lately. Now I know you are already drafting jokes about the unlikelihood of me thinking much at all, but just bear with me and just read. You're going to like this letter, I hope._

_I have been thinking about you. And that's not a new occurrence, but what is new is that I have been thinking about how I take you for granted. And about how you are my best friend and probably my favourite person that I have ever met. _

And here another doodled cartoon, left-set as the writing continued all around it – this one wasn't just an afterthought to take up blank space on the paper. A little side-ponytailed Misty with an Ashblob on the end of a fishing rod, pulling him up and through the air. Her bicycle waited serenely for its fate in the background.

_And I know I never say these things, and I know it's no excuse but I never thought I had to. I thought you just knew by default that I was missing you and that I wish every day that you didn't have to be a grown up and that you could come back and play with me!_

Another cartoon, right-set to balance the first one. Ash, - complete with backwards hat - and Pikachu, squared off against a grinning Misty and a simplistic representation of her Staryu.

_I associate coming home with you. I daydream about it – returning to Kanto triumphant and worthy and getting to see you every day again. I can't wait to come to stay and really, properly catch up – I'll be over there straight away, invited or not!_

A crude doodle this time, but clearly the Cerulean Gym with its imposing Dewgong sign. An impatient looking Misty, hair down to her shoulders now, hands on her hips. Ash's head poking out of a tent on the forecourt. Pikachu in the middle ground lugging a massive League trophy.

_It won't be much longer. I promise. I'm trying my hardest!_

_I am really sorry that I'm such a rubbish friend and that I'm not good at expressing myself. It makes me sad that you were ever in any doubt, but just in case:_

_I MISS YOU, MISTY!_

_And I cannot wait to see you!_

_Lots and lots and lots and LOTS of love,_

_Ash_

and squeezed on to the bottom of the page was the most careful of the drawings. A little Ash and a little Misty, sitting side by side on the end of the paper smiling out at her.

She read it through five times, her smile broadening with each repetition until it was as large as her cartoon counterpart's grin. She slid her letter off the counter into the bin and hurried up the stairs towards her bedroom. She had another letter to write, and the postal dates were tighter than she would like.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o

Ash's stomach was doing peculiar things as the group approached Sunyshore City. What would be worse? A cool response or no response at all? It had been his seventeenth birthday two days ago – surely she would at least acknowledge that? Dawn looked over at him curiously as his feet scuffed loudly and sullenly in the dirt.

As was to be expected, the Joy relinquished over a small bag of packages and letters – birthday wishes and trinkets. But right on the top, presumably most recently arrived was Misty's response, unmistakeably, undeniably there. His stomach squirmed again as he snatched it from atop the pile only to realise that it was light and thin. A short, formal note at best.

_Dear Ash_, and it was slanted with the speed with which she was writing.

_I'm coming for your birthday, I'm getting on the boat in the morning. I can't work out the times, I've gotten too lost lately. I will be at Sunyshore from the eighth until the thirteenth – STAY THERE AND WAIT FOR ME!_

_Love,_

_Misty xxx_

_PS: I loved your letter._

Ash's insides gave one last gut-wrenching kick before settling down into a trodden coldness. It was too late; she'd have gone home yesterday. And now what? How could things shake themselves out of this stagnant limbo? She would be a stranger by the time he got home, a cipher for his past with no place in his future. It didn't seem to matter how much neither of them wanted it. He'd have to go home, see her, but how? When?

The Centre's automated doors opened to allow a Trainer passage, letting Dawn's delighted laugh travel through to pierce his depressed reverie. Brock's baritone, even warmer than usual, rose to match it before the doors pressed together and blocked out the sound. Ash turned from his haphazard pile of packages to the windows, turned brilliant and muddled by the costal sun shining on them.

And she was there, a streak of orange and peach and blue, yellow where she held Pikachu in her arms; half obstructed by Brock, half bleached out by the reflection of the light, but there, unmistakeably, undeniably there. And even Ash wasn't oblivious to the implications of the faith and hope that had kept her waiting here for him on this foreign shore.

She turned her gaze and caught sight of him, although he knew he must be as indistinct through the glaring glass as she was to him; but he could see the wide smile breaking across her face, and one arm lifting free to wave.

Hurriedly he bundled the canvas bag of parcels closed again, stuffing Misty's letter in at the top. His best friend had travelled hundreds of miles to see him, and they had a lot of catching up to do.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


	26. Zeal

**[ZEAL]**

He had expected her to be wearing blue, but the dress - the hem twitched outwards in a fan from her wardrobe to show him a few days earlier - was a dull matt grey, the colour of thickened dust or of slush on the roads in February. He hadn't been particularly impressed, but he had to admit that tonight she had managed to bring the colour alive. She stood out, as he knew she would, in a room of pastels and black, swathed in silk of an alien sheen. The dress was like a small sea moving with her about the room, her pleasure the cresting of waves.

When they had first entered, her arm had snaked through his, and made them like a magic trick, a hoop around a triangle with no visible join_. _Her eyes are lined and dusted with silver and almost level with his tonight, thanks to the heels. Her hair is lightly curled and bounces and tosses as she laughs, and he feels astonishingly proud that he can afford this person, this other, so much joy. He wonders if she feels it too, the feeling of Coming Home for the last time.

Her gifts had been - as usual - sugar and spice; the card was relentlessly mocking but had been signed off: From your Biggest Fan, which was quite possibly the nicest thing she had ever said to him. Alongside it was a tacky photo frame, encircled with the words AIM TO BE A MASTER in lurid yellow plastic letters and far too many exclamation marks. She had shrugged. It's meant to be a joke, like irony? she had explained, rolling her eyes.

There have been speeches and dinner and dancing but still the celebrations continue on into the night. She won't let on, but the balls of her feet are tender and burning in the borrowed shoes and she shuffles restlessly on them. The hairspray is losing its grip and her hair falls limp again, and she feels like the pumpkin after midnight. He, still beside her, occupying the spot from which he was so long absent, is as bright and alive as ever, happy to have the same conversation over and over again with every single well-wisher.

And finally the torrent of people wanting time with the man of the hour slows, and he takes his chance. He braces her forearm and leads her out into the gardens, half a bottle of champagne in his free hand, her sister's shoes dangle from hers.

The dawn is coming on now, the grass is already slick with its moisture and they both laugh as she slips in her bare feet. The dew creeps up from the hem of the dress, little dark veins on the silk, and she hikes it up to hold it bunched at her thighs. Her skin is as white as bone in the moonlight.

He spreads his jacket on the ground – brand new, expensive, but no matter – and she drinks a mouthful of champagne from the bottle before lying down. He lies down heavily beside her; the elbows and upper back of his shirt are soaked through in seconds but already she's pointing straight upwards and in a voice thickened with champagne and sleep she talks about the constellations, and her mouth forms the elongated O of Cassiopeia like a kiss.

You talk too much, he tells her with a smirk as he settles back on one elbow to watch her profile as she stares up at the wheel of stars above them, narrators of ancient stories, and allows himself - just for a moment - to feel very small, very insignificant, but then again - on the other hand – overwhelmed by the sense of providence that has given him the best friend he has ever had, that brought two separate people crashing into one another's lives all those years ago, almost as if with this very night in mind.

There is no rush, not now he's home, but then again he can't see the point of waiting any longer. That part of their lives is over, and what has tonight been about other than new beginnings, old obstacles surmounted?

So he kisses her quickly, before allowing himself to think about it too much. Her nose and her cheeks are chilled by the pre-dawn air but her mouth is warm, and she tastes like summers and afternoons, with the flavour of champagne sharp underneath. The skin on the back of his neck tingles in a way that brings to mind the image of those champagne bubbles evaporating off his skin. She doesn't pull away and she doesn't reciprocate, but her breath grows quick and heavy under his lips and when he moves to look at her he can see even in the bleaching moonlight that a band of colour has reddened her face. She sits up, wordless. He wonders suddenly if she was as ready to stop waiting as he.

Suddenly shy, he rubs her bare shoulder roughly with his free hand as he searches for the right words to say, the right steps to take. He lets the hand drop to skim down her arm and take up her cold fingers in his.

Haven't you always known? he asks her, and without waiting for a reply resolutely kisses her again.

o 0 o 0 o 0 o


End file.
